Met his Match
by unusualsuspect106
Summary: "As Clark draws closer, the silence somehow tears through him and fills him with unimaginable fear. The absence of Connor's heartbeat is possibly the loudest, most terrifying noise he has ever had to endure."
1. Chapter 1

It is a beautiful day in Smallville.

Sunlight streams down on the luscious green fields and a cool breeze drifts lazily through the air, picking up stray leaves and scattering them through the air. Clouds, fluffy and white, hang over the horizon. Everything, from the clichéd Wild West buildings to the rusty, beaten up trucks, sings of Smallville's quiet, content, country town existence. Outside of the town, on the farmland, men are tirelessly working on their properties, each one accustomed to his own daily routine. The school is filled with children who do not have the desire or even the need for a well-rounded education, and who pass time by staring wistfully out of the windows.

And, overhead, a war is waging.

A boy is slammed into the ground with unbelievable force, a small crater appearing where he had landed. He is handsome, with black hair and blue eyes, wearing jeans and a black shirt bearing that unmistakable 'S' symbol. Blood is running down his face. He groans, clutches at his head, and looks up towards the sky. A white figure is racing towards him. With a roar, Superboy leaps upwards, pulling his fist back in preparation for a devastating punch. But before he even comes close to his attacker, two lasers shoot towards him and rake across his chest. He cries out in pain as the force of the laser beams once again sends him hurtling towards the ground. This time, however, he does not make impact. A hand reaches out of nowhere and grabs the front of his shirt. Connor finds himself suddenly hovering in mid-air, hanging helplessly by the black fabric. Two blue eyes, framed by those strange black sclera, gaze hatefully into his own. For a split second, the two clones stare at each other. It is eerie, seeing these two identical boys glare at each other with so much venom and loathing. The second boy, the one in the white suit, seems to falter for a moment. His deranged eyes seem to clear as he stares at the bloodied hero in front of him. For that one short moment, Superboy stares at Match and wonders if he will actually be able to survive this.

Then, whatever small shard of sanity had managed to enter Match's mind at that moment disappeared. He let loose an almighty roar and his fist smashes into his brother's chest. Superboy flies backwards, bouncing along the earth, leaving a crater each time he lands. He finally comes to a rest in the middle of a field, a moan of pain escaping his lips. Through blurred vision, he sees Match flying towards him. He screams as the lasers once again explode against his chest, and is only just able to register Match's fist preparing to slam into his face.

Connor closes his eyes.

Match continues to punch at the boy, roaring in fury every time his fist connects with Superboy's body. Finally, he relents, and stares down at the unmoving shape in front of him. A minute passes, and it is impossible to discern what Match is thinking as he stares down at his brother's broken form. Then, without a second of warning, he shoots up into the sky, arms extended. He does not look back at the carnage, at the wrecked fields and the craters in the ground left over from his fight. Within moments, he is simply a dot on the horizon.

Back on the ground, Connor's comm. link, miraculously unharmed by the fight, crackles to life. A man's voice, frantic and filled with panic, echoes in his ear.

'_Superboy, can you hear me? I'm on my way,'_

Connor's eyes flutter open, and a small groan resonates from his throat. The fingers of his right hand twitch towards his ear.

'_Superboy, come in!'_

Clark's voice is filled with a strange kind of fear. Superboy isn't used to hearing him sound so vulnerable.

'_I'm coming, Connor, just hang on. Please.'_

Superboy gives what almost sounds like a whimper of pain. His hand, shaky and pale, moves towards his comm. link with a painful slowness. He holds his finger against the small metal disc in his ear, and hears the quiet _beep _which tells him that he is online.

'_Connor, is that you?'_

He groans again, his lips unable to form words.

'_Connor, come in!'_

'Super…man…' he says, his voice coming out as a cracked whisper.

'_Conner, don't worry, I'm coming. You'll be fine. Promise you'll be fine.'_

Connor almost smiles at the request. Superman's voice has become nothing more than a distant echo, and the bright blue sky is quickly fading to black. He tries to speak again, to say something legible to Clark, but his hand has fallen to his side again and he can't find the strength to lift it. He stares straight ahead as the world begins to fade.

Superman is flying over Smallville now. He can see the ravaged farmland, the gaping holes in the ground, the burned trees. Using his super-vision, he scans the landscape, looking for Match, Connor, _anyone. _His eyes fall upon an unmoving shape in the middle of one of Ma and Pa's fields. An icy terror suddenly grips him, fills him with utter panic. He dives towards the place where Connor lies.

Blood, warm and sticky, covers his face and drips from the wounds in him arms. All that remains of his shirt is a tattered and singed piece of fabric draped loosely around his shoulders. His skin is shockingly pale. As Clark draws closer, the silence somehow tears through him and fills him with unimaginable fear. The absence of Connor's heartbeat is possibly the loudest, most terrifying noise he has ever had to endure. He suddenly wishes that Black Canary were here- that she would unleash a sonic scream which would rip through the earth and drown out the silence and maybe make him believe for a second that Connor's heart _was _beating, that his brother- his _son-_ was still alive.

He races forward as the panic builds up in his chest and threatens to engulf him. He wants to turn around. He doesn't want confirmation of what he already knows is true, that Connor is dead and that there is nothing, _nothing _he can do to bring him back. But he is already at his side, falling to his knees next to his body, harsh, broken sobs already bursting from his mouth. He finds himself repeating the same word over and over again: _no, no, no, no, no, _muttering like a crazy man as he pulls the boy's boy towards him. He searches fruitlessly for a sign of life, for _something, _a small part of him still desperately clinging to the hope that everything will be fine. He whispers his name, _Connor, _and the only response he receives is that ever-present, oppressing silence.

The dread, the fear, the rage and the grief all suddenly rush forward and consume him, fill his mind, and the Man of Steel breaks down. He sobs uncontrollably as he clutches at the boy's body. His arms wind tightly around Connor's frame, holding the boy to his chest. The limbs of the corpse flop uselessly to the ground, cold and white and unquestionably dead.

A breeze picked up, and Superman's red cape whips around in the wind. It gives, as it is intended to do, a sense of power to the man, a regal air which announces to the world just who he is. It tells people that he is here, that he is strong, that he is a hero. But now all it gives is a sick sense of irony. It flutters in the air, a symbol of power encasing a beaten, broken man. At that moment, no-one could have mistaken Superman for a hero. He was simply a father, broken down in uncontrollable tears and clinging to the lifeless body of his son.

**AN: Ahem. Well. The first fanfic I've written on this account turned out to be a big ball of depression. I just have a strange obsession with Superman and Superboy's relationship, and I wanted to write my version of Conner's death. I might add another chapter to this (probably on Luthor's reaction to Connor's death), depending upon how much people like this one. **


	2. Chapter 2

Lex Luthor's office is located on the top floor of what was once the tallest building in Metropolis. The entire room stands as a tribute to one man's swollen pride. The wall behind his desk has been filled with countless photographs; Lex Luthor shaking hands with the Mayor, Lex Luthor accepting the Key to the City, Lex Luthor donating several million dollars to a hospital… each one trumpets the incredible compassion and the boundless generosity of Metropolis' friendliest billionaire. Visitors are expected to look at these photographs and be awestruck by Luthor's staggering contribution to society. Of course, it is easy to forget that the majority of them are sadly dated, that a large chunk of Luthor's accomplishments are more than a decade old. He is no longer Metropolis' hero- _that _role had been taken from him a long time ago. To Metropolis, he was now just another corrupt businessman who was too powerful to be imprisoned for anything.

He is staring blackly at the city now, standing in front of what he calls a 'window' but what any ordinary person would refer to as 'a wall made of glass'. He had had this place built back when he had owned over half the businesses in Metropolis, when the city had truly belonged to _him. _This obscenely large window had been placed in his office so that he could look over the small corner of the world which he held in the palm of his hand.

Now, of course, the situation has been changed.

The television is switched on, and Cat Grant's voice fills the room. Luthor seems to be only half listening, his eyes still raking across the great city outside of his window. But when Miss Grant's voice suddenly switches from cool professionalism to something more… mournful, he suddenly becomes disturbingly still.

'…We have received confirmation that the Boy of Steel, Superboy, has been killed. Circumstances surrounding his death are unknown, however it is widely believed that he was the victim of murder. The Justice League has not disclosed any further information, and Superman has been unavailable for comment.'

For a moment, Lex's eyes close and his head bows down as if in resignation. It is the posture of a man who has just been forced to let his last strand of hope go. Cat Grant continues with her story on Superboy's death, her voice just the right combination of somberness and authority, but Luthor does not appear to be listening.

A loud, shrill beep suddenly echoes from his desk, and pulls the businessman from his reverie. His eyes snap open, his hand reaches for a small remote resting in his pocket, and the television screen instantly blackens. He strides towards his desk, leaning back comfortably in his chair, before his fingers push down against a small, red glowing button which appears to have been built into the mahogany. Another screen descends from the roof, attached to a long robotic arm, and a small camera connected to his laptop whirs to life. Luthor watches silently as the various members of The Light appear, one by one, in front of him. There is an extended, almost uncomfortable silence.

'As I am sure you are all aware,' Vandal Savage begins, 'our mission has been a complete success. While we may have some problems regarding the recapture of Project Match, the primary objective was reached. Superboy will no longer be posing any threat.'

There is another tense silence. Generally, in these situations, there would be some lighthearted gloating amongst comrades, at least _some _celebration of victory. This time, however, is different. No-one dares show any emotion regarding Superboy's death.

'Perhaps,' Black Manta says evenly, in that irritatingly diplomatic tone, 'we should consider… ah… developing another Project Kr. The potential benefits-'

'No.' Luthor's voice is quiet, but it holds a hint of danger which instantly silences Black Manta. 'I have shut down the Superclone project. There will not be another Project Kr.'

The looks his colleagues give him told him that they are less than satisfied with his decision. He stares coolly back at them. For all of the speeches Vandal Savage has given regarding 'equality among members', nobody dares to cross Lex. All of his power, his influence, that brilliantly sadistic mind- they make him an incredibly valuable ally, but a potentially lethal enemy. He doubts that even R'as would openly oppose this decision, and particularly not under these circumstances. Luthor is punishing them, and they all know it. Will they try to retaliate? Lex's lips twist into a cruel smirk. They are certainly welcome to try.

He watches, wordlessly, as one by one his comrades sign out. Their interaction has been short, but there is nothing left to say. Eventually, only Vandal Savage's face remains.

'It had to be done, Mister Luthor,' he says. His words are slow, measured, carefully planned. 'I only hope that your… opposition to our decision does not drive a wedge between you and The Light.'

'You certainly should,' Luthor says. He rarely takes this tone with people, particularly not his colleagues. Gone is the reasonable and calm voice of the businessman, gone is that politician's charisma. Menace drips from his words, and he stares at Vandal Savage with hard, cold eyes. 'The Light would certainly lose a very big chunk of their funds if I were to leave.' There is something in Savage's face. A warning. Luthor lets forth an almost inaudible sigh. 'Superboy was a liability,' he says coldly. 'From a business standpoint, eliminating him was the best option. And you know how passionate I am about business.' Vandal Savage looks at him carefully, sizing him up, attempting to read him.

'And from a moral standpoint?' he asks, his voice utterly devoid of emotion.

Lex smiles. 'Goodbye, Vandal Savage.'

The screen blackens, and Lex leans backwards in his seat. His expression has, once again, lapsed back into that unreadable mask which he perfected in his youth. For a while, he remains impossibly still, with only the occasional blink confirming that he has not somehow morphed into a giant human statue. Suddenly, however, his eyes glint dangerously and his hand twitches involuntarily towards his desk drawer. Speaking with the same careful, planned tone Vandal Savage took only a few minutes earlier, he utters a single word.

'Yes?'

Reflected in the television screen in front of him is a heavily muscled chest, adorned with that unmistakable 'S'. For a split second, Luthor wonders how the Boy Scout had found his way in here without detection. He will have to update his security measures.

'Where's Match?'

If Luthor hadn't spent years delving into the world of violence, death and chaos, he surely would have recoiled from the tone in that voice. It is something beyond grief. There is a layer of pain and anguish, but it is largely obscured by a black, uncontrolled fury. Never before in Superman's presence has Luthor actually felt any need to fear for his life.

'You know how to find him. _Where is he?' _

Lex remains silent. He isn't altogether surprised when he hears a growl of frustration and finds himself being yanked forcefully out of his chair. Superman holds him up by the collar of his shirt, his eyes glowing a bright, deadly red.

'I should break your neck,' he hisses viciously. Lex gives him a small smile, and his hand closes around the drawer just behind him.

Superman makes an odd choking noise and reels backwards as a green glow suddenly illuminates Luthor's face. He collapses to the ground, groaning, and glares up at Lex with pure hatred. The businessman pauses as he stands over his nemesis, that small sliver of kryptonite clutched tightly in his hand. He studies Superman's face coldly, his gaze locking onto those grief-stricken blue eyes.

_All too familiar._

Shock crosses the Man of Steel's face as a drawer suddenly slams shut and the muscle-seizing agony caused by kryptonite instantly subsides. He looks up. Luthor stands next to his desk, his hand now closed around a small metal disc. Slowly, as if it almost pains him to do it, he places the device on the mahogany wood.

'Match has a tracker built into this solar suit. This will allow you to track him.' He nods once at the disc. 'It also emits a frequency which only a Kryptonian will be able to hear. Match is programmed to shut down if he ever encounters it.' He slides his device towards Superman, who stands, legs shaking. Reaching out slowly, the hero grasps the disc in his big hand. Surprise still dominates his face. He glances up again, and his eyes meet Lex's. The businessman instantly turns away, focusing his attention on the window.

'Luthor, I-'

'Get out.'

Superman's hand extends, reaching for Lex's shoulder, but he quickly withdraws it. Several seconds drag out, and eventually the Man of Steel turns on his heel and strides back towards the big wooden doors. Luthor does nothing as the sound of the slamming doors vibrates throughout the room.

The Light won't be happy. They might even revoke his membership after this betrayal. It isn't too much of a loss; he had been growing tired of laboring under Savage's influence. And, of course, there was the undeniable bitterness which he now harbors towards the entire group. He knows that they are not entirely to blame for Superboy's death. _He _had been the one to finally succumb to their arguments, _he _made the final decision, as a businessman, to eliminate the boy.

But Lex Luthor has never been very good at shouldering the blame.

From his pocket he pulls a small box adorned with a red 'S'. His eyes fix momentarily upon the symbol of his enemy, before pressing a button and watching as the lid slides open. He had always carried the Shields with them, just in case he was ever given the opportunity to tempt Superboy over to his side. The boy had always been drawn to power, perhaps due to his knowledge that he would never reach the same level of greatness as his mentor. Oh, he had _tried _to be like Superman, but he never had that blind optimism, that ever-frustrating _hope _which had always exuded from the Man of Steel. Despite the boy's vehement protests and stubborn denial, despite the hateful looks he had thrown, despite the slow strengthening of his relationship with Superman, he had always held a small shard of Lex Luthor.

And, despite the businessman within him, Luthor had always been unutterably proud of him for that.

**Well, it took me a while to actually motivate myself to write this, but here you go. Hope you like it, and thanks for all of the lovely reviews **


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